Prime Mover

But what matter whether I was born or not, have lived or not, am dead or merely dying.

I shall go on doing as I have always done, 

not knowing what it is I do, nor who I am, 

nor where I am, nor if I am.

Samuel Beckett

Last night, the Omnipotent Prime Mover threw a fit in his kitchen, banging Divine pots and pans, generally throwing His Infinite Weight about. Guess the heat finally got to Him/Her/It. The racket died down shortly before I arose at 4. Upon arrival I saw the last echoes of lightning on the eastern horizon.

It remained dark for long enough to eat a sandwich and have some coffee.

Very humid (88%) and with that, a head-on breeze, gradually stiffening throughout the morning. For those landlubbers who don't know what a stiff breeze is: in a stiff breeze, you pour your coffee sideways. Occasionally, a passing ship spills container or two (this last statement subject to examination - might be subjective).

During the first hour, I felt increasingly subject to an indefinable sensation. After another hour or so, I realized that it was the absence of heat. Chill!

Last Sunday, saw the Sean Scully exhibition in De Pont, Tilburg. Had expected his work to be more rigid, but found it pleasingly sensual and rich. It is a good and rare thing to see painting that is not based on a narrative. That resonates without a given meaning. 

But my Omnipotent Prime Mover can the man talk! Even if slow and thoughtfully. Check out his video's. If I talked that much and so intimately about my work, I would feel the urgent need to self-flagellate. 

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Un monde à côté

De toutes façons le dessin est un monde à côté. Ce n'est pas une prise de possession, ce n'est pas du tout une prise. Le monde existe-t-il d'ailleurs, sinon "mondifié" (geweltet)? dit Heidegger. Un dessin c'est un monde en soi, aux racines innombrables, et qui puise sa force et sa présence à travers l'homme qui le réalise, mais bien au delà de son corps et de sa vision immédiate.

Jean Bazaine, Dessins 1931-1988

Slightly cooler than recently, and dark for longer. High clouds coming in from the west, while wind clearly from southeast. Weather-app incorrect, as far as I'm concerned. But who am I to blow against the wind?

Strange cloud-formations developing, long strips of the softest fur folding over themselves. The surf in the sky. 

Then, about 34 drops of rain.

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Thunder and lighting

On peut s'imaginer que le réalisme consiste à copier... un verre tel qu'il est sur la table. En fait, on ne copie jamais que la vision qu'il en reste à chaque instant, l'image qui devient consciente... Vous ne copiez jamais le verre sur la table; vous copiez le résidu d'une vision. [...] On le voit comme s'il disparaissait... resurgissait... c'est-à-dire qu'il se trouve bel et bien toujours entre l'être et le non-être. Et c'est cela qu'on veut copier...

Alberto Giacometti, Entretien avec André Parinaud, 1962, Ecrits, p. 273-4

First-class morning.

Arrived at 5, but had to wait in the car for about 20', because of heavy rain, and more importantly, a lightning storm at ca 3-4 km distance, coming my direction. I didn't fancy getting zapped while carrying my gear over the dike.
Wind and rain in the back, making it possible to shelter under the umbrella, and to start work. As the weather passed over me in a southwesterly direction, the sky in front grew darker, and became the most striking orangy purple, over a pale emerald river. After about an hour, the rain ceased.
Then, out of the blue, the wind turned 180° in one go. Had to strap the umbrella to my chair. The wind-turbines on my left stopped, as if perplexed. Soon the horizon got hazy, and it started raining again. So I got showered twice by the same rain-clouds! From # 6 onward, you can see the rain taking part in the drawing process...

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